


Same Time Next Year 2 - Boxing Day 1992

by adeclanfan



Series: Same Time Next Year [2]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeclanfan/pseuds/adeclanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Declan is injured and needs special assistance from the man he met the year before. They've both been looking forward to his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Time Next Year 2 - Boxing Day 1992

Same Time Next Year chapter 2

Boxing Day - 1992

Declan was on his second pint when a familiar dark headed figure entered the smoky pub. He smirked, just a little. It was bloody freezing outside and if the mysterious man from last Boxing Day wanted a repeat, he wasn't going to get it from Declan tonight. 

The snow was ankle deep and still coming down. His cock and balls would freeze and snap off out there. 

Declan chose the bar for his evening meal and the chance to get out of his little flat over the bar without negotiating snowy sidewalks and crowds of revelers. He hadn't been expecting the man to return here. The fact that he had returned on the same night of the year made something inside Declan very turned on. 

There was a brief flicker of surprise when the man looked down the faces at the bar and saw Declan smirking back at him. He gave him a friendly nod and the dark eyes held his for a long time; it felt like those eyes were trying to find their way into his soul. It gave Declan a tingle to see the man again. 

Declan shifted a little and stretched his aching calf. The bones were nearly healed from the recent breaks, but the injured muscles tended to cramp if he sat for too long in one position. Not to mention the brace, and bones themselves, itched like the very Devil. 

The man, Dr. Watson, if Declan's sources were correct, got his drink from the bartender and moved down to take the stool next to his at the bar. He noticed Declan's ankle brace and was careful not to bump his injured leg, too careful. 

“It's almost healed,” Declan offered with a shrug.

Watson took a sip of his pint and turned to look at Declan. “Jump accident?”

“It was, yes. Nearly two months gone, now.”

“Did it require surgery?” Watson studied the velcro brace contraption with obvious interest. 

Declan shook his head, “Clean breaks. No surgery required.” If he'd wanted, Declan could have put more space between them; but Declan found he didn't want more space. He could smell the other man's cologne and shave lotion and the slightest hint of pipe tobacco. The dark eyes studied him intently and at this proximity Declan couldn't hide the little jolt of excitement it sent through him. He covered it by going on the offensive, “How's London?”

“Still in England. Weather's just as fowl as here, if not more so.” He nodded to Declan's nearly empty mug and inclined his head toward the bartender. “May I?”

“Appreciated, but I have trouble enough navigating things like snow and stairs in this get-up without adding a third pint to my bloody lack of coordination.”

Watson's dark head bobbed, and he hid a smile behind his mug. “You must live near here, then.”

“I rented a flat upstairs. Seemed like as a good place as any, since I've been on medical leave. Warm, decent sized room, food and beer without having to go out and hunt for them...”

Dr. Watson laughed, “Every young man's idea of Paradise. Though, I notice you left out the part about the attractive waitresses in their tiny uniforms. I'm sure they faun over you, if you let them... being an injured soldier and all.”

Declan smiled wickedly, “They do indeed.” Declan shifted on his stool, again, in an attempt to stretch in the limited leg space under the bar. 

“Have they started you on PT, yet?”

Declan took the final sip of Guinness and regretted not allowing the man to buy him another. “After the holidays.”

“Cramping on you?”

“A bit, yes.” Declan offered the man his hand, “Declan.”

The man took it in a good firm grip, just the right amount of pressure; he had nothing to prove with the shake. ”James.”

Declan smirked, “Dr. James Watson, head of something called the Sanctuary, in London.”

Dr Watson's eyebrows arched in surprise at young man's knowledge of him, “Fond of internet searches are you, Declan Macrae?” 

Declan's cheeks colored. Apparently, the man had researched Declan as well. “Wasn't hard to look you up. Not everyone talks like they stepped out of a Sherlock Holmes novel.”

“Very good. I'm impressed.”

Declan's leg muscles picked that moment to protest rather dramatically, making him wince from the sudden agonizing pain. 

“I know of a trick or two that can help with the muscle spasms,” Watson offered, and Declan was in too much pain to do more than grunt an affirmative and push his room key in the older man's direction. Through clenched teeth, Declan said, “Gimme a minute.” He took a few deep breaths out of his mouth and then got to his feet, despite the pain. 

Dr. Watson helped him to his second floor apartment and settled Declan on his bed, rather than the tiny couch, while he knelt and unfastened the pieces of velcro and plastic that made up the ankle brace. He set the pieces aside and removed the double layers of long socks Declan was using to combat the chill and prevent chaffing from the plastic. 

“It's never been this bad before,” Declan said, quietly watching Watson unstrapping the brace.

Watson's thumbs brushed lightly at the bottom of his foot, starting at the heel and working their way upwards. “I'm going to start with a bit of reflexology.” He found a specific spot on the bottom of Declan's foot and applied pressure to it. He held the pressure for a ten count before moving to another spot. Declan regarded the whole process with skepticism, to which the man said, “Give it a chance to work.” There was more pressing and rubbing. “Do you have lotion?” 

“In the drawer there,” Declan nodded to the nightstand and Watson retrieved the bottle of hand lotion they both knew Declan kept in there for wanking, he was twenty and a guy after all. A healthy sex drive was to be expected at his age. He coated his hand in lotion and set to work massaging the tight muscles of Declan's calf with long, firm strokes. 

In no time at all, Declan could feel a difference, the pain was greatly reduced and the muscles were no longer twitching angrily. It felt very, very good. “Damn,” Declan sighed, “I think your bloody massages are even better than your blow jobs.”

James looked up at his comment, and smirked at him, “have you been getting scores of blow jobs to make a proper scientific comparison?”

“Nah, I haven't got time for that. Been busy.”

“Quite rightly so, there's a war on in the Middle East. Where were you when this happened?” The man caressed Declan's thigh lightly.

“Europe, Germany. Mission practice jump.”

“Did you spend any time in Iraq?”

“Plenty. Was a nice change to visit Europe for a few months to train, I was growing weary of having sand in everything.”

Watson smiled, “I can imagine. That part of the world was never a favorite destination of mine.”

Declan decided to try out some of the information he'd gathered on James Watson. “As for a proper scientific comparisons, I don't know that anyone I know could compare sexually to a man who's got over a hundred years of practice under his belt.”

The older man gave a delighted bark of laughter, “Cheeky! Or under someone else's belt, you mean. Point to you, young man. You've done thorough homework on me.”

Declan grinned at him, “I have, yes, and anytime you want to improve upon your score from last year,” he waved at the sizable bulge forming in his jeans, “I'm not going to complain.” 

“With an proposition like that, how can I possibly refuse?” Watson crawled up Declan's body, mindful of the healing injury and pushed Declan back onto the pillows. Then, the older man replaced the socks and was about the return the brace when Declan said, “Leave it off, I've been sleeping without it.”

Watson smirked, “I don't think you'll be getting much sleep tonight, but I'll be mindful of the leg.”

“That would be appreciated.” 

They were nose to nose and Declan did what he'd been dying to do since Watson entered the bar tonight. The younger man lifted his head to close the distance between their lips and kissed him full on the mouth. It was a quick kiss, but with it came his permission for the strange, but very attractive, James Watson to seduce him. 

Watson kissed him back hungrily and it was strange, not much like kissing a woman. That wasn't a bad thing necessarily, just different. Declan was used to taking the lead with women, but instead found himself melting into the other man's touch and letting the other man guide them; he didn't waste any time getting his hands into Declan's pants and the straining erection into his fist. 

A low moan escaped from Declan's lips as he was pumped to full hardness. His mouth fell open with shock when the older man slid down his body and took his cock into the back of his throat. “Christ, you're good at that.” The fingers of Declan's right hand toyed with the dark, silky hair on the man's head, while his left was fisted in the sheets. His toes curled and uncurled and wantonly he tried to lift himself into the mouth when it would slide off his cock, but the man held his hips to the bed. 

After a minute, Declan was hissing like a boiling teapot and Watson pulled back to let him calm down, “You'll find the skill of my cock-sucking improves exponentially with the attractiveness of my partner.”

“Or the amount of alcohol you've consumed?” Declan teased.

James smiled, kindly, “Don't sell yourself short, young Declan. I've been looking forward to meeting you, again.”

“I was surprised you came back.” Declan felt his jeans being dragged over his hips, and he lifted to allow the man to remove them. He had a moment or two of doubt when his lower body was scrutinized by those dark, unreadable eyes, but before he could say anything or try to cover himself, his cock was being licked root to to like a ice cream on a hot, summer day. “Oh,” he gasped, as a finger, still slick with lotion, stroked over his balls and tickled behind them. “Ah... ah.”

Watson's tongue made a slow wet trail over Declan's balls and back to his cock. “Have you ever been rimmed?” The blank look on the younger man's face amused Watson. “What about anal sex, has anyone ever fucked you?” He didn't wait for an answer, just went back to sucking Declan's weeping, swollen cock. 

Declan was soon panting, again, the stimulation making it hard for him to speak coherently, “Uhm. Na... no. None of that.” There was a moment when those dark eyes were laughing at him, and Declan wanted to be offended, but he was too busy coming into the man's mouth. “Oh fuck,” Declan howled. It felt like he came for at least an hour before his body stopped spilling seed into the hot confines of Watson's mouth. 

“Fucking doesn't sound like it's going to be an option tonight.” A finger gently circled Declan pucker, making him squirm. “That sort of play takes a great deal of preparation, I could hurt you...”

It seemed like a challenge to Declan. “I can take it.”

“Oh, I'm quite sure I could make you take my cock, but you'd be cursing me until next Boxing Day.”

Declan sat up and gave the man a scowl, “If you think I'm going to wait until next bloody Boxing Day to get more than a blow job, think again!”

“Young people today are so demanding...” James sighed. “Why don't you tell me where to find a condom? And we will just see where the night takes us, alright?” He found condoms in a drawer in the bathroom and brought a few back to the bed to where Declan was recovering from the best blow job of his young life. 

The look he gave James was a combination of awe and eagerness to see what Watson had planned for him next. “I'm going to show you how to prepare a lover for anal sex and then you can try out your new knowledge on me.”

Declan smirked, “Will there be a grade at the end of the night, Dr Watson?”

“Possibly. The grade will be determined by the orgasms.” James picked up a tube of lube he liberated from the bathroom and carefully climbed back onto the bed. He moved Declan's knees up and spread his legs. “If at any time you want me to stop...”

Declan frowned. “I'll tell you to leave off.”

“Glad to hear it.” Watson applied some lube to his fingers and gave Declan's ass a very slow thorough stretching. Then he removed his clothes, save for the shirt that covered the chest plate he wore, and stretched out on the bed. “If you do a decent enough job stretching me, I'll let you fuck me.”

“Me? Take you?” Declan gaped at him in shock and awestruck adoration. 

Watson smiled wickedly, “As I said, it depends on how well you've been paying attention in class.”

Declan took the lube and set to work, imitating the teasing and gentle probing and then using his fingers to fuck the older man's ass until it was stretched and slick. 

“You are a very apt pupil, Declan Macrae.” He tossed a condom to Declan. “Come and get your reward, you've earned it.” He lifted his legs and offered his ass to the other man, without the slightest bit of self consciousness or reservation. 

Declan watched him and swallowed hard. “Are you sure...”

“Roll the condom on and coat it with a generous amount of lube. Then, get over here and fuck me. I won't shatter like glass, I rather enjoy being taken once in a while.”

He did as he was told, and Declan only hesitated for a moment at pushing his way into an unfamiliar passage. “Bloody hell, you're tight,” he whimpered. 

“You're doing fine. You're getting the hang of it quickly enough.” 

Declan was, too. He soon found his body complying to demands for him to move harder and faster. The man's ass was so hot and tight, but he didn't want it to end with him coming to soon. “Don't want to come so bloody soon, but damn...”

“Take my cock in your hand and jerk me off. I'm closer than you think.”

Only a few moments later, Declan took the older man's groan and gushing orgasm as permission to come himself with a series of violence jerks of his hips. He pulled out and tossed the used condom into the trash bin beside the bed. His head slumped to the pillow and he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the hem of his shirt. Two orgasms did Declan in and he would eventually have vague memories of Watson using a warm, wet cloth on his cock and ass, and lips brushing his temple, he fell asleep almost immediately. 

He woke the next morning to find a neatly printed note on the pillow beside his head. It read simply, 'Grade- A+. Same time next year?'

“Try and stop me,” Declan replied to himself. 

 

(Well?)


End file.
